


Make Your Own Bed (And Lie In It Too)

by nulliusrei



Series: We'll Meet Again [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Female Character, Blood and Injury, Dubious Morality, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Love/Hate, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Slight Age Difference, Smoking, Tattoos, Violence, but not very apparent here, john seed being an asshole, mostly hate lol, this is alot yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23555329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nulliusrei/pseuds/nulliusrei
Summary: Digging her nails into his cheek she scratched him out of spite, claw marks ending where his beard began; a marred painting of purples, blues and reds;Wrath, oil on canvas.He moaned and she almost felt sorry for him, bending down to kiss him, trailing over his inked arms.The moonlight suited him, softened his features, almost making him look human, disguised the beast within. Hard muscle casting shadows on the dips and valleys of his skin, a Caravaggio painting come to life.She was his Judith and he was her Holofernes.
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, John Seed/Original Female Character(s), John Seed/Reader
Series: We'll Meet Again [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695997
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Make Your Own Bed (And Lie In It Too)

**Author's Note:**

> Pls read the notes thank u!!!!
> 
> 1\. I would highly reccommend reading the first part of the story. I decided to turn it into a series instead of a multichaptered work because it makes me less anxious about updating my stories hahaha
> 
> 2\. For this chapter’s sake let’s pretend there’s a jukebox in the spread eagle even though I didn’t notice one while playing the game. 
> 
> 3\. I really want to clarify something I should’ve said in the previous installment of whatever this mess is; Bear with me!! 
> 
> > This is not a depiction of a healthy relationship, they hate each other (especially the dep) and even though this fic is not strictly following the actual storyline, the context is the same; the seeds have done awful things and the deputy is still fighting back. She’s not trying to change john and doesn’t give a shit about the other siblings, she really wants this to end and even though she’s no psychopathic mass murderer, she’s not exactly happy about killing the brainwashed (and I repeat, the brainwashed ones not the ones who voluntarily joined and are terrorizing everyone willingly) victims of the father even if it’s in the name of self-defense. Once again this is not a healthy relationship and I don’t mean to depict it as such. 
> 
> This fic has morally grey/ambiguous themes and is kind of (well not kind of it's very) dark but I LOVE writing angst and stuff where the main character doesn’t take shit despite knowing that what they’re doing and the situation they're in is fucked up- I mean, we’re talking about a cult in control of an entire county here after all.
> 
> With that being said I really like them as villains and their relationship with the deputy is an interesting one imo
> 
> the stuff non playable characters (mostly sharky and Adelaide) have said about john and the deputy were too intriguing to pass up. Like "fuck and get it over with" lmao
> 
> Sorry for the essay but I wanted to get this out haha
> 
> 4\. ALSO! I know I’m kind of rambling in the first half of the fic but I really wanted to include a scene of the dep interacting with one of the resistance members. I like to think that during their stay in the county the MC has developed a strong bond with them, especially the guns for hire and even though Mary May Fairgrave isn’t one, I really like her character! She still has a big role in the game! Thus the scene with the two of them was born.
> 
> Sorry for the long ass intro. Enjoy!

She saw him in everything. 

Somewhere along the way the bullets grazing her silhouette started to feel like his touches, the lethal metal cutting through camo, leather and skin the same way his hands disassembled her, stripping her down to the marrow.

It had been a little more than week since their rendezvous in his confessional and about five days since she came across john’s letter. The blade was jagged in so deep it went straight through the door, a calculated display of power;

  
_I know where you are, I know where you’re heading._

Him and his notorious flare for the dramatic.

  
She _knew_ he knew. John always had a way of crawling into her mind and prying it open, dissecting her thoughts and deciphering her next plan of action. Always 3 steps ahead of her.

Had it not been for her unpredictability ( _“plain buffoonery”,_ Adelaide once called it as she patched her up after a last minute plan b took a rather gruesome turn) and lucky streak she was sure she’d be more often _in_ chains than without.

  
She took a deep breath and looked up, beyond the green canopy of the trees. 

  
The sun was bowing down behind the mountains surrounding the Henbane, the sky an endless canvas of purple, orange and _baby blue_ -

Closing her eyes she sunk lower into the bushes behind the outpost and reloaded her candy red sniper rifle. _Cherry Bomb_ , she called it. The product of a childish dare after one too many glasses of bourbon with Grace, Hurk and Sharky.

 _God_ she missed them.

Contact with the resistance had been reduced to the bare minimum lately, her little fireworks show along with the consecutive outpost liberations causing the Seeds to tighten up on security and switch to offence.

Guards were everywhere and that _delighted_ her because it meant they were doing something, their efforts may actually be enough and the siblings were afraid of them. Of _her_.

The sound of branches snapping next to her dissipated the cloud of thoughts fogging her mind and she shifted her attention to her feline companion.

Removing her leather glove she petted her fur and kissed her on the head.

Peaches purred under her touch, tail swaying around playfully as if she wasn’t about to tear a Peggie bastard’s face to pieces in the next 5 minutes or so.

Resting the very back of her rifle against her shoulder she held her breath and pushed the trigger, painting the leaves crimson with angel blood.

  
_Smooth like honey._

……………………….  
The drive back to Falls End was short and boring-just the way she liked it.

Normalcy was never her cup of tea but her less than hospitable stay in Hope County had proven her otherwise; now she _craved_ it, craved to be able to watch the stars in the sky in peace, stand in the middle of a field and just feel the soft breeze on her face instead of the looming threat of having a bullet planted on her temple.

The Eden’s Gate logo sprayed on the hood of the stolen truck made her blood boil but walking was out of the question and judging by the deep cut on her upper thigh she wouldn’t have gotten very far. 

Passing through the Bridge of Tears she laughed until she gasped for air because never in a million years she thought she’d feel safe going back to John’s region. _The fucking irony._

  
The Henbane terrified her.

  
Her wound bled and bled against the tightly wrapped cloth, torn nerves burning, her senses screaming at her to stop pushing but her foot floored the pedal and her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

She needed to get out of there and do it _fast_ , speed like hell through the bliss fields and riversides.

Nothing was real, solid, her vision steeped in green, obscuring her judgement. A dream within a dream, within a dream.

  
The sheep hunted the wolf; men turned into beasts. Ghosts in human shells roamed the hills, eyes glowing in the dark and between all of that a small voice in a corner of her head tempting her to take Faith’s hand and lie between the flowers, breathe in deep and leave it all behind.

Anything would be better than this.

She was _tired_. Plain and fucking simple.

Instead she wiped a few stray tears and pushed the gas pedal harder. 

... 

  
The first thing she saw as soon she opened the door of the truck was the pitch black barrel of a carbine shoved in her face, the pink fluorescent sign of the bar reflecting against the gunmetal.

“Holy fucking _shit_ Dep. You wanna sent me to an early grave or somethin’? A fucking peggie truck?”

“Hello to you too. Warmest welcome I’ve been given in a while, not gonna lie.”

Mary May swung the shotgun on her back and helped her get up from the car seat, wincing as she took in her battered state.

“ _Don’t_ , m’fine. Just a scratch.” She murmured, groaning as the other woman wrapped an arm around her shoulders to help her balance.

“A very, _very_ deep one.”

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s not that bad. Once all the shit and grime is off I’m gonna look as good as new.” She smirked, limping her way back inside the Spread Eagle practically hanging off of Mary May.

“Yeah, yeah…”

She really, really, _really_ missed this. Human contact, small talk, hell even being scolded by the people she’s grown to call her friends as she bled all over their clothes.

Peace and quiet. Or at least The façade of it.

_“I need a drink.”_

…

  
It was late.

There were only a couple patrons downing what was left in their glasses when she came down from her room, freshly showered, her wound all cleaned up and bandaged.

Mary May was kind enough to always keep a room for her in case she needed a place to rest and even though that didn’t _really_ happen all that often she was truly thankful for it. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept on a proper mattress let alone an actual bed; she didn’t even get a wink of sleep back in the cabin, too fired up from the letter and thoughts of Him to relax. Sleeping bags and the good old hard ground didn’t really do it for her either but desperate times call for desperate measure and _fuck_ if she wasn’t desperate.

“You alright?” Mary May asked behind the bar, wiping down a beer glass.

“Yeah. Still need that drink though.”

She laughed and shook her head.

“Tough as a coffin nail aren’t you? Add that one to the list…”

She scoffed, heading over to the old jukebox next to the bar, skimming through the records. It was too quiet for her liking and silence was the last thing she needed at the moment.

Silence made her jittery and anxious, it wasn’t synonymous with Hope County and it _never_ meant good news.

It signaled the calm before the storm.

  
She allowed her tense muscles to relax when the song started to play through the speakers, the soft guitar of _Don’t Fear the Reaper_ filling the now empty bar, making her sway along with the rhythm- as much as her injured leg allowed her to anyways.

Closing her eyes for a second she then headed back towards the bar, eyeing the glass of bourbon Mary May had prepared for her sitting atop of the counter.

Taking a generous sip she all but moaned shaking her head frantically as if it would help with the burn trail the liquor left down her throat.

“ _Fuck_ that’s good.”

Mary May snorted and grabbed the bottle off the counter along with a plate of warm food and headed towards the entrance. 

“You comin’ or what?”

Grabbing her drink she got off the stool and followed her out to the single table left on the porch. Placing the serving in front of her she sat down on the opposite chair and motioned for her to eat.

“Go on it’s all yours. Casey fixed it for you before he left; he said you looked _too skinny for your own good.”_

A flicker of red hair flashed through her mind but she squashed that thought down before her anger spoiled her much earned dinner.

“Tell him I say thank you. I appreciate it.” She replied, digging face first into the cornbread.

“Tell him yourself. His shift starts at noon, take the day off and give him your thanks. Ask him to make you another one of his specials.”

“I can’t do that and you know it. Have shit to attend to, work to finish. Too busy blowing up the entire place to have leisure time.”

Mary May’s disapproving gaze might have thrown her off had she not been starving enough to barely lift her head off the plate. It tasted like heaven in her mouth and even though her position wasn’t one that allowed her to be picky about her palate she _really_ missed having a plate of good, hearty food at the end of the day.

“Look at you, you’re starving. I ain’t stupid I can see you’re overworking yourself to the bone. It’s not good for you, you’re gonna fall apart before we win this”

Rolling her eyes she took a sip of the whiskey and sighed, slumping her shoulders against the back of the chair.

“I need to finish this. It’s been what, 3 months? And I still feel haven’t done anything despite burning half their shit to the ground. Hudson’s rotting away in that god awful bunker and Pratt is- _fuck_ I don’t even know if he’s even _alive_. We’ve been cut off from the outside world for the entirety of the summer and shit was already bad out there before that, I don’t think I even want to know what’s really happening. I want this to be over as fast as possible. I _need_ this to be over.”

_I’m tired_

  
Mary May popped the cap off the bottle in her hands, tossed her head back gulping down a glass’ worth of liquor and then poured some in her own half empty one.

“Well, _shit_.”

The tune of the jukebox played softly behind them, drowning out the crickets and the late summer breeze blowing through the trees.

The deputy sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day and spoke up again;

“You know what I miss the most? About the outside I mean.”

“What” She mumbled back

“ _Weed_.”

Mary May’s laugh was loude enough to have been heard throughout the entire County. It startled her and soon she started to laugh too, too tipsy to hold back, and it felt _good_.

“Must be your lucky day Deputy.”

“Wait what-“

Still cackling she went back inside her bar and a few seconds later returned to the table with a small dusty jewelry box.

Popping the lock open she lifted the lid and slid it towards her.

“You’ve _got_ to be fucking kidding me”

Inside laid 4 tightly rolled blunts, eachoof them generous enough for one person.

_She could cry._

“Holy _shit_ -you could’ve said this earlier you know, saved me the desperate speech and all. I thought the peggies confiscated everything.”

“I wouldn’t be a Fairgrave if I couldn’t hide a couple joints now would I?”

“God, you’re amazing”

“I know... y'know, your accent comes out when you’re angry. And ranting. Ranting angrily. ”

 _“Just pass me the lighter already”_  
…………………………………..  
That night she dreamed of calloused hands and ink, a whisper in her ear, a brush of lips on the back of her neck. White flowers growing from her bloody ribs as she carved out her own heart and laid it on the altar. Rivers flowing through the church, the water sweeping her away, merging with her tears and slipping into her lungs; a forced catharsis.

She floated and sang but the melody sounded like sobs.  
……………………………………

The sunrays seeping through the blinds cast a halo of warmth around her face disturbing her slumber. The sleep deprivation and fatigue finally caught up to her and amping up her post sleep photosensitivity tenfold.

How she _dreaded_ today.

The knot in her chest tightened at the mere thought of having to face him in a few hours and suddenly watching the dust particles dance around the stale air of the small bedroom seemed much more of a pressing matter than getting out of bed and start preparing for what was to come.

His blade rested on the other side of the mattress, her only companion in the small bed. She grazed her fingertips down the sharp edge and told herself that sleeping with it hidden under her pillow was a choice made purely out of survival and the need to put herself at ease. _Not_ because she missed him.

He had been awfully quiet, no radio calls, no search parties, no Intel- _nothing_.

Silence.

Not that she missed listening to him seething and spitting jabberwocky in her ears every time she managed to deliver yet another substantial blow to his sovereignty.

It was suspicious, it made her skin _crawl_ because his special invitations only meant trouble and she wasn’t ready or willing to put up with whatever stunt he was about to pull this time.

She was dangerously unpredictable but so was _he_.

It reeked of foul play.

_As if fucking John wasn’t bad enough already_

Groaning she grabbed the knife and gathered her clothes from the nightstand.

... 

  
She waited for darkness to spread over the land before making a move, being nocturnal by nature and all.

Petting Peaches goodbye she thanked Mary May _and_ Casey before gathering her weapons and hopping into the same peggie truck from the night before.

Driving with a fresh wound was a still a pain in the ass. She was sore all over and no amount of painkillers would change that. She took those damn things like lemon drops, her body slowly refusing to listen to her pleas and efforts of numbing the pain.

But she was not soft anymore, the scars and thickened skin under her feet telling stories of blood and gore like grotesque braille on her body, a language her old self wouldn’t be able to understand.

The fuzzy radio broadcast harmonized with the white noise of the truck’s engine. It was almost relaxing, driving through the quiet fields and farms. 

But a storm was brewing inside her.

With a machine gun on her chest and a rifle on her back she rode closer towards the belly of the beast.

... 

The scene that greeted her was bizarre to say the least.  
She expected a barricade of armed men from the balconies-to the entrances-to the roofs of the chalet, hunting dogs, the usual alarm piercing her eardrums the moment she stepped into his estate, a fucking kiss with a fist for a welcome , _anything_ , anything but this.

It threw her off because of _course_ that bastard was up to something.

Cold sweat pooled at the dip of her collarbones soaking her undershirt. Weighting her options she carefully calculated her next move; this wasn’t her first time at the rodeo. A previous-failed- attempt at liberating the location granted her the privilege of memorizing the grounds well enough to navigate them in the middle of the night and _hopefully_ not get shot down like a goddamn dog while doing so. She’d use nature to her advantage and break in from the back, the thick trees shielding her crouching form.

Yes. That would do.

  
Waiting it out was not an option and it was already late by the time she’d left Fall’s End. John Seed didn’t like to be kept waiting; she knew that much and judging by his recent irregular patterns she guessed he hasn't been all that chipper and jolly.

  
She was sure there were snipers hidden on the trees, at least a dozen eyes glued on her but if they _really_ wanted her dead they would’ve already done so gladly.

  
No, he _wanted_ her here. This wasn’t a game of cat and mouse, both of them alternating between each role; this was a lost cause, a scenario in which he had almost all the advantages and she was at his mercy.

  
Fingers twitching over her .44 magnum, she scanned the surrounding area and clenched her teeth as she made her way towards the closest ground level window. No balcony climbing for her until she could walk without limping from the pain.

  
The lock was open and she exhaled in relief because what would be the point of going through all that trouble to stay quiet if she had to break the glass.

Taking a look inside to calm down her racing heart, she slowly slipped through the small opening, making sure she didn’t agitate the wound on her thigh.

The hallway, much like everything else, was dark and eerily silent. Well, _mostly_. The faint notes of a feminine singing voice resonated from the left end of the corridor, where she could make out the slightest sliver of light just around the corner.

  
Closing the window behind her, she pulled out the handgun from her thigh holster and reluctantly walked towards the music.

  
Stepping into the main hall she stopped dead in her tracks, the proud voice of Vera Lynn blending in with her ringing ears. Her heart pounded in her temples but she still held the gun up high, releasing the safety with a click, trigger finger itching to set off the damn thing.

  
He sat with his back turned to her, facing the fireplace. A cigarette in one hand, a glass of liquor in the other, both resting on the arms of the chair. He raised the former to his lips taking a deep drag and let the smoke swirl out in clouds of white and grey.

The song came to an end and then started all over again; a loop inside a loop, the record player popping and crackling back to life.

The rest of the ranch was dark veil of tar covering the walls and furniture and guessing by the burnt fags collecting in the ashtray he must have been waiting for quite a bit.

_Fuck_

She knew he heard her, knew she was behind him, _knew_ she had her gun aimed at him, ready to strike at any second.

Another drag of the cigarette.

With small side steps she circled around his lax form, taking her time to conceal the drag of her sore leg and came to a halt between him and the fireplace.

He looked exactly like he did the night she left him in the bunker. Hair falling messily on his eyes, dress shirt held together by a single button- _a different one than the one she stained that night_ , she noted- and sleeves rolled up, as always.

Suddenly she felt overdressed for the occasion, the firearms resting on her upper body seeming heavier than ever. 

“ _You’re late_ ” He spoke up, still not quite looking at her, irritation obvious in his tone.

“I’m a busy girl” She replied.

In her defense, she did have matters to attend to, places to blow up, people to liberate. _Just not that specific day._

“No drugs, no alcohol, no fornicating. Glad to see you’re following your own rules Seed. You look like _shit_.”

At the mention of the slightest hint regarding what they did a few moons ago, his entire attention shifted to her and the look in his eyes was so intense her hold on the magnum faltered.

Without breaking his gaze from her eyes he took a sip of the dry whiskey swirling the drink in the glass. 

“You won’t get away with that. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make you compensate every last drop of blood you spilled. My _brethren’s_ blood. _My_ blood.”

She laughed

“Bold of you to give your own two cents about innocent people getting killed. You kill my allies, I deliver _back_. _An eye for an eye_. ”

Clicking his tongue he shook his head disapprovingly and hummed

“Always so feisty…so sinful…so _angry_. You’re too young to be a vessel for such hatred. No matter how long the trail of corpses you leave behind is, it will still be futile. All of it. You don’t get a say in what happens or how it happens.”

“You’re fucking _crazy_ -“

“ _No_ deputy. Do you want to know what crazy is? Doing the same thing over and over and _over_ again and expecting different results . ”

Putting out the rest of the cigarette he set the glass on the wooden table and laid back on the armchair, legs spread open.

“Now, I don’t remember anything about telling your to bring an entire armory along with you. I lay _bare_ before you. Now _you_ do the same.” 

“How do I know you’re not gonna try something funny.”

She never trusted him and she sure as hell wouldn’t start to do so now.  
“I f I wanted to I’d have already done it darling.” The pet name sickly sweet on his tongue.

Slowly, _carefully_ , she unbuckled the holsters tying her rifles to her chest and upper back and placed them on the ground next to the record player with the front sights resting against the wall. She did the same with her pistol, noticing how his eyes wandered as she removed the thigh holster but he stopped her when her hand touched the knife.

“Give it to me.”

_Right_

Sliding it out of its case she flipped it midair catching and handing it to him by the blade.

 _“Good girl._ Now sit down.” He purred and she honestly couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not.

 _Fuck_ him and his ability to break down her walls

Staring him like he grew another head, she walked towards the second armchair facing his own and sat down, ignoring the burn of her injured thigh.

“You got you little toy back. I believe it’s my time to go. Let you continue your one man pity party” Her voice low and calculating, threat lingering in that statement and she wouldn’t spare his pretty face if he pushed her at her limits.

After all she’d never been a patient person.

Toying with the knife in his hands, the tip of the blade digging into his index finger as he twirled it around itself, John ignored her completely, crooning along with the song as it went through what seemed like its hundredth loop for the night.

 _Maybe_ _she should risk bashing his head on the antique coffee table, speckle a droplet or two of blood on the expensive carpet. Give it some character and all._

And then John called out her name. Her actual name.

“Absolution of sin cannot happen if there’s nothing to atone about. To purify the soul, the body and the mind, it all requires for there to be… _something_. The faintest idea of darkness, a stain begging to be wiped clean. How can renounce my sins and be thankful, full of _love_ and _devotion_ if I don’t have anything to atone for in the first place.”

Giggling under his scrutiny she shook with laughter and anger, a borderline manic sight and she’d be embarrassed had it not been him watching her

“ _Bullshit_. You kill and fuck because you like it, you _crave_ it, it makes your blood boil it makes you feel _alive_. You disregard your preachings and practice the acts you so obsessively condemn, the very same excuses you torture and kill people over. And you were lucky enough to find the perfect little playground for your sadistic tendencies to thrive on. _Don’t play dumb_. We both know you’re living on borrowed time.”

He was seething. Her biggest talent was pissing John Seed off and today she hit a sore spot.

She was really pushing her luck this time. 

“I _believe_ in Joseph-“

“Oh _fuck_ off. He’s not a prophet; he’s a narcissistic, murderous prick with tight connections to the government. Same shit if you ask me.” Tears blurred her vision obscuring him from her field of vies and she couldn’t stop laughing and crying, tired beyond words, tired of all the deaths and the chasing. _Tired_.

John rose from his seat so fast she flinched; bringing the knife down on the table with such fury the forgotten glass toppled over and fell on the floor, intricate crystal shattering into a million pieces.

Grabbing her by her forearms he raised her off the armchair but before he could overpower her completely she pushed his arms away with her elbows, twisted one behind his back and pushed him face first against the nearest wall with such viciousness some the framed pictures lined up around them shook and fell to the ground.

Reaching into her right combat boot she retrieved a small pocket knife _-a gift from Jess-_ and angled the blade against his neck. She wasn’t small and he tended to forget that. Their matched heights allowing her to fight back with the same ferocity, overturning their dynamic completely. Sure her leg was killing her but the muscle gained from causing mayhem on the daily allowed her to stand her ground and then some against him.

_Who’s laughing know huh?_

Breathing hard she pressed her knee between his legs and brought her lips close to his ear feeling him twitch under her firm grip

“You’re lucky you still have Hudson. Otherwise I’d already have you bleeding out on that fancy carpet of yours”

He replied with something between a laugh and a sneer, the sound muffled by the blood dripping down his nose and on his lips, looking like the cat that caught the cream despite being the one held at knifepoint.

“Joseph’s right. About the collapse, the new Eden, about _you_. You don’t care to understand and that will be your downfall…What will your friends say if they find out you fucked your own sworn enemy?”

He wanted her angry.

And she was angry alright.

“Don’t you _dare_ , don’t you _fucking dare_ say a word to them or touch them, Seed. Unless you want the entire County talking about how their beloved Baptist smokes pot and has a raging drinking problem. Hit me once, I’ll strike back twice.”

He saw his chance and took it

Struggling against her weight he swiftly brought his unrestrained arm between their tightly pressed bodies then found her upper thigh and _squeezed_ , digging his fingers into her wound.

With a wail she bucked under the pain and loosened her clutch around his twisted hand, a small but grave mistake, giving him a window to break free and grab her by the wrist, making her drop the blade next to the shattered picture frames.

Removing it from his neck he pulled her off his back, twisting her around so _he_ was the one pressing her to the wall this time. Face to face, all nice and snug.

“How did y-“

“You bled through your pants. Plus, I could be blind as a bat and still notice you’re limping. Not so subtle are you?”

 _Fuck_.

“Should’ve pressed harder. I Might’ve passed out, spared you the trouble.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. You gave me no choice. I invited you to my home and _this_ is how you repay me.”

Her entire being throbbed, waves of pain shooting from her leg up to her head, manifesting into a headache. She was sure that if he wasn’t all over her, holding her up with his arms she would’ve collapsed to the floor, too far gone to bend her limbs to her will.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem? Why pull this stunt in the first place? You sure as hell could have send one of your devoted, brain dead followers to retrieve your beloved knife and make my day a living hell all in one. Kill two birds with one stone. Why _this_?”

Pupils moving like crazy all over her features, he looked like an absolute madman, a hunter seizing up his prey. _Shifting back into his usual self_. He seemed to do that a lot around her, she thought, breathing in shakily and she honestly didn’t know whether that was good or bad _or_ what it said about _her;_ Their relationship, or whatever this fucked up thing they had could be called.

Meeting her eyes, he stayed there. Skipping several beats her pulse went into a frenzy, the raw passion radiating off of him being so intense it made her knees buckle more than her sliced up leg ever could.

“I _really_ wanted to fuck you on a proper bed this time.”

Leaning forward she put her hands on his chest, pushed him back with a grunt and grabbed him by the loose collar of his dress shirt before he could stumble over the glass that littered the floor around them. _Really_ putting her weight into it, she brought her other hand up to a fist next to her head and delivered a punch packed with so much of her fury it gave him a brand new nosebleed upon contact.

And then she kissed him.

The silk fabric tore under her nails as she held on for dear life, lacerated thigh rubbing between his legs, feeling him harden, pain and pleasure two sides of the same coin.

It wasn’t pretty-it _never_ was. Angry, raw and intense the undertone of hatred and blood delicious against her tongue. 

Moaning unabashedly he broke the kiss to lick the tears off her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized she was crying.

Placing a chaste kiss on her forehead he slapped his palms down her ass, roughly kneading the skin, rubbing her from behind.

“ _Kneel_.”

Too lost to fight back, she slowly got down to her knees, holding onto his forearms for support.

“ _Fuckin hurts_ ”

“Serves you right. Now take my belt off”

The metal of his buckle felt cold under her trembling fingers, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Pulling down his zipper she pulled his pants down to his thighs and palmed him through the thin layer of his underwear.

Groaning at her touch, he fondled her face, brushing a stray hair away from her eyes. Sweeping his thumb over her lips, he let it slip into her mouth pressing down on her tongue. Sucking on it, she heard him groan, felt it vibrate through her body.

Pulling out his finger he grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of her head and guided her towards his cock.

“i-“

“Go on. I don’t bite.”

_Asshole_

With renewed determination she brought her face over his cock and kissed the covered tip, looking at him through her lashes

“But _I_ do.”

Pulling down his boxers she guided him to her mouth and licked the tip, dipping her tongue into the slit, satisfied when she heard him hiss and stutter. Circling her tongue around the head she slowly took him into his mouth.

She _knew_ he was aware this was her first time doing this. John was light years more experienced than her and even though she’d found herself between a woman’s thighs a fair share of times before, this was new. No amount of pornography could prepare her for the real deal.

And yet something about the way she looked on her knees, mouth stuffed full of his dick made him want her more. It was almost endearing, the way she struggled to fit him all in.

Bobbing her head up and down she teasingly grazed her teeth against him just to see him squirm and pulled away completely. Licking a stripe along the thick vein she took him in her mouth again and wrapped her hand around him, pumping at the base. 

Picking up her pace she sucked harder and tightened her grip, moaning when he pushed her by the hair to take him deeper. Fitting in as much as she could she resisted her gag reflex, groaning when she felt the tip at the back of her throat.

She could tell he was close. His lewd moans and loud breaths betraying how much he enjoyed this.

Pumping faster she swallowed around his dick, nearly losing it when he let out a loud cry, groaning what sounded like _‘again’_ , his thighs trembling around her.

_What a turn of events_

Pulling back she sucked on the head a couple more times and braced herself for one last tight fit, lowering her head until she felt him up against her throat and swallowed hard while moving her hand frantically , feeling him twitch against her tongue, his cum falling in strings down her throat.

Pulling her away by the hair, she released him with an obscene pop.

If she didn’t know him she’d say he was in love by the way he was looking at her. Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed red, her hair as messy as his own and she was gasping for air like she'd been underwater.

She should be ashamed, _humiliated_. But the rush she felt when she realized how much power she had over him threw every last ounce of logic left in her mind out the window. 

“Clean it up. All of it”

_conceited motherfucker_

_“Fuck off”_

Smiling innocently, John lifted her up by the elbows – “ _watch it_ ”- and kissed her bruised lips, tasting himself on her tongue.

“You did better than I thought”

The _nerve_ of this man

“The hell is that supposed to mean”

Laughing he tore his barely buttoned shirt and threw it on the ground, kissing her again. He sucked on her tongue and bit her lip, lapping up the blood.

 _Pain and pleasure_.

Massaging her outer thighs treading dangerously close to the sore wound, he dug his fingers onto the flesh beneath her ass the muscle hardening under his hands, and hoisted her up. Chest flush against his own she instinctively wrapped her legs around him letting him guide her to his room.

Eyeing her work on his face she grinned. Dragging a fingernail across his split lip she wiped the blood pooling on his cupids bow and wiped it down his bare chest, tracing the carved out sin, coloring the letters with his life source.

Crimson suited him the most.

His arms relaxed around her and he threw her off him, her back colliding with the feather soft mattress of his bed.  
Lowering the rest of his jeans and underwear down his calves, he kicked them across the room without sparing a second glance, his eyes never leaving her face. 

She was still fully dressed minus her equipment and wasn’t making a move to change it either.

Locking her thighs around his waist she squeezed hard enough to bruise and tilted her chin at him, arching her waist off the bed, chest in the air.

_“Undress me.”_

Eyes darkening he crawled over her, his fingers playing with the collar of her shirt.

Before he could do something stupid she continued , her voice low and threatening;

“ _Without_ ripping anything. If I hear a single tear I’m going to sock your pretty face.”

Fondling the base of her neck, she felt John’s grip twitch and tighten around it before he flattened his palm against her chest and traced down her torso until he reached the edge of the fabric.

Roughly raising it over her arms along with her sports bra, he eyed up her exposed breasts, flicking a hard nipple and continued by removing her baggy jeans off her legs in one swipe.

He took in the deep, angry gash on her left thigh, the red skin blending in with the rest of the scars decorating her body. Her own twisted collection of unspoken stories.

He huffed, shook his head and turned her around by her sides.

“I almost pity the man who did this to you”

Dragging the underwear down her thighs he licked a line down to her clit sucking the bundle of nerves roughly.

She shuddered.

“Don’t. He’s buried too deep to hear you.”

Pushing her shoulders into the matress, she bent her back and lifted her ass up, legs spread open.

Mocking him.

She meant it as a warning but the hatred bubbling up inside her was evaporated when John pushed his cock into her without a warning, bottoming out with his pelvis slapping against her skin.

She whined and gripped the velvet sheets next to her head, breathing steadily to adjust to the feeling of his cock around her walls.

“ _So fucking wet_. You’re awfully eager for claiming you don’t want this. So _docile_ with a dick stuffed in you.”

Growling she moved to meet his still hips, nails drilling into his thighs

“Move before I kill you and get off on my own”

With a low chuckle he snapped his hips, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, her moans rising higher and higher and he bent over her with his hands on the nape of her neck as he fucked her into the mattress, fast and hard and _deep_ , pulling out when she got too close, then starting all over again.

  
Building her up just to break her down.

His favorite pastime.

Pulling her knees further apart with his knees he straightened up, short and fast thrusts driving her up the bed.

She nearly screamed as she felt him push her lower into the mattress, hitting the same spot over and over again.

She was close and he knew it, he could feel her wrapped around him like a vice and if her gun wouldn’t kill him her cunt would _surely_ do the job.

“Tight little thing…You sing so pretty for me”

“Fuck y- _mhhhm_ -!“

 _God_ , he was going to be the death of her.

“Touch yourself. _Now_.”

Bringing her hand over her heat she rubbed tight circles around her clit, the overstimulation making her want to curl her body in and of itself but the firm hand on her nape forcing her to stay put.

She came with a cry, frantically reaching with her arms behind her to hold onto him, struggling to stay grounded, her moans muffled by the mattress.

He continued until she rode out her orgasm, lifting her by the neck to stand on her knees as he halted his thrusts and came deep inside, grabbing her breasts and biting her between the shoulder.

His words from that day ringed in her head _\- I’m going to eat you whole._

Coming down, he removed his teeth and pressed a mocking kiss on the soon to be bruise.

She fell forwards on her arms, bed creaking under her weight and rested her head on the cold pillow. Pulling out of her, John rubbed the sensitive skin around her cunt and pulled her folds apart watching silently as the cum dripped down her thighs.

Turning away from him she coiled at the edge of the bed looking at the moon shining through the window.

Emptiness. Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_ , yet everything at the same time.

The mattress dipped behind her and felt his fingers trace over the tattoo on her upper back, from the tail of the black snake to the forked tongue peeking through its mouth.

“It fits you.”

“I know.”

Humming he went lower, over the swell of her ass, in between her stained legs, drawing circles with his cum onto her skin

“You should let me give you one. Ink your skin…mark it permanently”

She didn’t like how that made her feel.

“You’ve already done that once. The damn thing still hurts from time to time” she said irritation evident in her voice, the _wrath_ etched into her sternum throbbing against the sheets, an eternal reminder of her shortcomings.

“Who gave that to you?”

It was less of a question and more of a demand -if not an _order_ \- to answer it.

“No one. None of your business”

“ _Ah_. A lover then.”

Goosebumps raised on her skin and that was all he needed to know he hit a sore spot.

“He did a good job”

 _Not as good as I would’ve._ It lingered in the air, unspoken yet just _there_. It was childish to egg him on, respond to his deliberately intrusive questions, prying around trying to find an old would to scratch.

“ _She_ did a good job. And like I said it’s none of your business.”

Humming thoughtfully he continued disregarding her clear unwillingness to play his game

“I see. Full of surprises as always-”

Turning over, she grabbed him by the jaw feeling the bone cracking under her fingers and climbed on top of him. Closing the distance between then she brought her lips over his and whispered;

“I said, _it’s none of your business_. Let it go. You don’t know me and I sure as hell don’t know you. You don’t see me asking questions I shouldn’t be asking in the first place. _Back the fuck up_.”

The corners of his lips twitched to form the most genuine smile she’d ever seen on him and the sight both terrified and made her heart skip a beat. _It fit him_.

“I’ve been inside of you, sweetheart. Your first. You’ll open up to me in no time.”

Digging her nails into his cheek she scratched him out of spite, claw marks ending where his beard began; a marred painting of purples, blues and reds; _Wrath_ , oil on canvas.

He moaned and she almost felt sorry for him, bending down to kiss him, trailing over his inked arms.

The moonlight suited him, softened his features, almost making him look human. Disguised the beast within. Hard muscle casting shadows on the dips and valleys of his skin, a Caravaggio painting come to life.

She was his Judith and hewas her Holofernes.

“Stay.”

“ _What_?”

Climbing off him she moved to get away but his grip on her wrist stopped her still.

“ _Stay_. Leave in the morning. “

“Are you out of your mind? You’re can’t be serious... I still have my guns propped up next to your centerpiece downstairs. I _can_ leave, it’s not too late. _Now let me go._ ”

“I’ve taken care of everything. If I were you I wouldn’t step outside this late… _who knows what will happen to a pretty little lamb like you.”_

She saw her face twist in realization, the color draining from her cheeks.

That was a threat if she’d ever heard one.

The snipers.

 _Fuck_.

Her vision blurred around the edges and she touched her face, the tears gathering in the lines and rivers of her palms, turning into precious stones under the ghostly glow of the full moon.

She slumped next to him on the bed contorting into her previous position. Wrapping the thin blanket over her naked form she slid her arms under the smooth pillow hugging it closer to her chest.

Desperate to feel something.

She heard the telltale sound of a lighter being ignited and then the oddly comforting sizzling of tobacco. A cloud rose up to the ceiling and she signed.

Turning to face him she stole the cigarette from between his fingers and took a deep drag, letting the tar fill up her lungs.

Bringing him closer she exhaled into his mouth and he breathed it in.

She felt a piece of her soul leave her along with the smoke but instead of fighting it she closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his still beating heart lulling her to sleep.

_She was so tired._


End file.
